


Feels like I'm falling into a world I can't control

by cutebutpsyco



Series: Stephen Strange Bingo 2019 Fills [3]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Gen, Hurt Stephen Strange, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), References to Depression, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 02:24:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19264051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutebutpsyco/pseuds/cutebutpsyco
Summary: STEPHEN STRANGE BINGO. FILL: BRUCE BANNER || BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO: SURVIVOR'S GUILT ||How could he? He was the one who was supposed to die if someone had to. And while the flames didn’t have any answer to offer him, simply watching at them was sort of soothing for his never stopping brain. It was the closest thing to peace he ever felt since the moment they came back from Tony’s… lake house.





	Feels like I'm falling into a world I can't control

**Author's Note:**

> So, when I received my Stephen's bingo card and I saw the Bruce Banner square I thought about something completely different. Than Endgame happened and in the middle of a BBC Sherlock rewatch I had this idea and here we are.  
> The MCD tag is because Tony's death is discussed in this one and it's tagged mature because of survivor guilt. Professor Hulk never existed in this universe because I didn't particularly like that part.  
> All the tagged relationships are mentioned but for Stephen and Bruce. 
> 
> One day or the other I'll stop to project on Stephen but, again, today is not the day. 
> 
> As always, nothing belongs to me, not beta read, title from "Bad Dreams" by Ruelle.

Stephen was seated in front of the fireplace in the Sanctum; the soft cushions of the armchair couldn’t help his shaking body, his hands trembling crazily while he tried not to look at the Cloak, floating in one of the main room corners as if it was expecting for its master to ask for its help Stephen didn’t intend to. He didn’t intend to let his hands caress the soft fabric of it, didn’t dare to ask for the momentary comfort that it could provide. He didn’t deserve that. 

He shook his head, trying to remove from his mind the image against which he was fighting, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t fight it the first time he saw that on Titan and couldn’t now, not after that the very same scene happened in slow motion in front of his eyes. He walked over, he stayed there, looking at how the sun started to set on the horizon and then he went back. He still had no idea about who changed him from his formal clothes. Probably Wong, but the image of Christine’s chestnut hair couldn’t leave his mind and the idea of her seeing him like that was unbearable. 

He trusted her, but he knew what it meant if she saw him like that. It meant that he must be expecting a visit from the woman sooner than later. That thought was what he couldn’t think about in that moment. He didn’t need a babysitter; he didn’t need someone to take care of him, not after what he did, not after the life he sacrificed.  
His eyes were fixed on the flame that was burning the wood inside the fireplace. It had been lit up for the past week or so, and it wasn’t like Stephen was keeping the count of the passing of the time. It was pointless. He enchanted the wood so that he continued to burn and that had been pretty much the last rational things he has done. A part of him knew that he was leaving his own duties on Wong’s shoulders, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach. 

It was the same with food: he didn’t need to eat, not while he was doing nothing but just sit there. And while he had always hated to feel useless, Stephen couldn’t just go on with the idea of being the man who killed Iron Man. That was how he knew the news was him, and the point was that they were right, he killed Iron Man, he was the person who let to Tony Stark’s death. He killed a hero, a man whose intelligence he valued highly, a man who could understand him, someone with whom he could establish a friendship, with the passing of time, someone who was so much more than the idea of hope. A man who saved the world over and over again, a man who stood in front of terrorists and who went toe-to-toe with governments. And Stephen killed him, while he was supposed to be the person who died or, at least, should have done something to prevent his death. 

That was the outcome of a future he hadn’t seen. One of those that he couldn’t bear himself to look into because everything was becoming too much, and yet he made his call. He decided the fate of a man raising one of his fingers. In what was Stephen different from Thanos? He didn’t deserve his powers. He didn’t deserve the title of Supreme Sorcerer. He didn’t deserve the friendship of Wong and Christine’s concern. All he deserved was the hate from the people who saw him as the killer he was. A man who swore an oath and then decided that Stark’s life could be sacrificed. He looked into Morgan’s eyes and tried to smile at her. But he couldn’t. 

He shook his head, trying to keep the glass filled with water as still as possible. But he couldn’t, not only his hands, but his entire body was shaking, fear or weaknesses he couldn’t tell anymore. All he knew, though, was that he couldn’t blame the nerve damages for that. So he simply let the glass fall against the wooden floor and went back contemplating the flames.  
Stephen knew that it was pointless, he knew that he couldn’t live like that, but he didn’t care. How could he? He was the one who was supposed to die if someone had to. And while the flames didn’t have any answer to offer him, simply watching at them was sort of soothing for his never stopping brain. It was the closest thing to peace he ever felt since the moment they came back from Tony’s… lake house. 

He had no idea how long he stayed like that, he knew he didn’t even bother himself to go up in his bedroom during the night, despite Wong tried over and over again to convince him. Stephen pretended not to hear the librarian because that was better than fight with him. That was probably a couple of days ago when he said the right things that would have pushed the man away. That was how Stephen was. He knew how to hurt people. He knew what to say so that they would have left him alone. He did it with Christine short after his accident because he couldn’t bear the idea of the woman he had loved, in his own way, saw him weak, and he was doing the same with Wong and the other Masters that came before. Reading them was easy, and once you know how to translate someone, you know exactly what to do to push them away. 

That was the reason why he didn’t expect for anyone to try to talk him into leaving the Sanctum and going back to his duties. And that was the reason why he was surprised when he felt the very magic of the Sanctum alerting him that someone entered. It wasn’t a threat, the Sanctum recognized a friendly presence or it would have taken care of it by its own or, at least, the Cloak would have left its place despite Stephen’s orders to wrap around him, but whoever they were, wasn’t a usual frequenter of Bleecker Street. So, no any of the Master or Christine. Probably Wong told the doctor Stephen was acting like the awful person he was and she decided she had enough of him. It was comprehensible. Stephen had no idea why she stayed, and while he would have suffered to see her walk away, he was ready for that. 

At least, whoever entered, was probably looking for his help instead of trying to help him, he decided, and that was good. Stephen didn’t need help; he never needed it. He could solve all his problems on his own, it was better, he couldn’t hurt himself. He smiled, to the flames and sure that it was a forced one when he heard anxious steps stopping at the threshold. 

“How can I help you?” He asked, without even looking at the newcomer. And maybe he should have, he realized, the moment he recognized the voice. He knew the man who entered the Sanctum, and he was the last person he was waiting to show up there. 

“I’m not seeking for help,” He said, moving some step into the room and taking an armchair close to the one on which Stephen was seating. Stephen didn’t move, did nothing to acknowledge the other’s presence while he knew that Banner was intelligent enough to understand that he was listening to him even without looking at the other doctor. “I wanted to see if you’re doing all right.”

“Peachy,” Stephen’s answer came immediately. He didn’t need to be checked on. He wasn’t a baby, and he had barely known Stark in the first place, let alone the Hulk or the others heroes in fancy pants. He didn’t let his eyes leave the flames, knowing that he couldn’t hold Banner’s glance. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Why indeed,” The other man answered and Stephen hated the fact that he didn’t seem able to foul Banner. It brought him to think if Christine and Wong were aware of the fact that he lied to them too, but the truth was that they probably had seen it before Stephen even did. That was the point with friends, he suspected. One couldn’t just cut them off from their lives and the problem was that Stephen wasn’t even sure if he wanted to. But, again, Bruce wasn’t his friend, he was merely an acquaintance. 

“So, if you don’t need my help, why are you here?” He asked before Banner could say anything else. “I don’t have all day long.”

“Yes, staring into the fireplace is a full-time activity,” The doctor bit back. 

“Why are you here, Bruce, for real?” Stephen replied, and this time he let his eyes ran at the man. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, and he was thinner than Stephen remembered. It was clear that he hadn’t been the only person with whom the last days hadn’t been nice. 

“We are worried.”

“And I guess that with _we_ you mean you, Christine and Wong,” Stephen replied. He knew Banner and his best friend started to date during the five years between the Snap and the final battle and not only because he saw it in the Time Stone. “It’s nice of you, but I’m fine.”

“It’s not just us,” Bruce shook his head, and a moment later a hand fell against Strange’s arm. Stephen hated to watch how that was enough to stop the body tremors, anywhere but for his hands. “The Masters from Kamar-Taj, Scott, Shuri and T’Challa, and Peter,” That was enough for Stephen to turn his head back toward the fireplace. Peter’s name was enough to bring him back to that battlefield, to see the kid crouch down and trying so desperately to reach for his mentor. Stephen had a first-line seat for that, and it was the last thing he ever wanted. “He misses you, and he’s worried.”

Of course, Bruce understood. Stephen wasn’t so subtle as he liked to appear and Banner was a genius, he hardly gave him a difficult puzzle to solve. “He shouldn’t be, I’m fine. Go and tell everyone. I’m good.”

“Nobody blames you, Stephen.”

“Well, maybe you should,” He snapped. He hated how perceptive Bruce was. He hated the man could read him like an open book. “It should have been me.”

There was a questioning light in Bruce’s eyes and Stephen understood that there was a way to have the man back off and never search for him ever again. Just a few words, a small lie, and nobody would ever look for him any more. It was easy, he just had to tell Banner that he willingly sacrificed Tony to save his own life. Bruce would either walk away from his life forever or hulk out and kill him, the Sorcerer was good with both options.  
It was easy, even too easy. A small push was all it was needed to start the fall. It was everything Stephen would have asked for. And yet he couldn’t the moment he saw Banner nod. 

“You think you are the only one who believes that?” He asked, and while Strange couldn’t speak for the other Avengers, he could see the same hunting sense of guilt that was clasping at his chest in the other’s dark eyes. “Flash news, you are not! With the exception that I could have snapped and survived it. I must have done that. But I got trapped under the falling Compound, instead.”

“You didn’t see it coming,” Stephen let out, it was a whisper, something that he wasn’t even sure had left his lips. “It should have been me.” 

“It should have been nobody, Stephen,” Bruce answered. “This… This won’t bring him back, starving yourself won’t. Closing up there, blaming you for something that can’t be changed won’t bring him back. You are the only one who’s blaming you.”

And, for once, Stephen didn’t know how to answer. He knew all those things; he had always known them because, of course, he knew that nothing of what he was doing could bring Tony back, but knowing that nobody blamed him was new. He didn’t expect so much, and yet he couldn’t help but stop to consider himself responsible for Stark’s death. Because it was on him.  
He didn’t say that to Bruce, though, simply nodding once the man rose from his armchair. 

“Call Peter,” Banner said, before leaving. Stephen nodded again, without even knowing if the other doctor saw him and that was the moment he realized he couldn’t keep his tears anymore. The Cloak flew around his shoulders and for the first time since Stark’s funeral, Stephen didn’t order it to leave him.

**Author's Note:**

> I live for kudos and comments  
>  **wanna say 'hi'? do you have a prompt for me?** find me on [tumblr](https://ironstrange-is-the-endgame.tumblr.com/).  
> find my Stephen's bingo card on [dreamwidth](https://myrcellabaratheon.dreamwidth.org/7206.html) and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/541820).  
> find my Bad Things Happen bingo card on [dreamwidht](https://myrcellabaratheon.dreamwidth.org/8376.html).


End file.
